Trucker's Cigar Boy (mm hypno smoking)

Yeah, I like being a trucker.

There’s something right about being on the open road, holding the wheel, listening to the engine, and smokin’ on one of my big cigars. Hey, I’m a big bear of a man, and I drive a big rig, and when I’m on the highway, I like the feel of a hefty, heavy cigar. It just seems right, you know; it feels real good while I’m out on a hot, dusty stretch of road.

And I always like to keep my eyes open for hitchhiking males. Sometimes, just sometimes, I get lucky.

College Stud climbed up into my rig back at the stop. I could tell he was a student; he had the look, the cap, the clothes, and he was carrying the usual bag full of books. He needed a ride and his destination was just a couple hundred miles my way. I didn’t stalk him; no, I was at the pumps and he approached me of his own free will and asked. It was all so very innocent; what could I say? He was going to make good company.

You in school? Going for your master’s, are you? You must be awfully smart. What are you majoring in: History? English?

Geology. So College Stud was into rocks.

He had a real sweet face about him too, a short cropped cut, and a little facial hair above and below the lips that said he was almost a man. And I kind of liked his youthful confidence; yeah, that’s it: I liked the kid’s swagger. So of course I offered him a ride.

But when my rider has himself belted safe and tight in my cab, with both doors securely locked, and as I’m pulling my rig up to speed, my mind begins to wander: It doesn’t look like you’ll be going anywhere too soon now, does it, College Stud? So why don’t you just relax and make yourself real comfortable. Let yourself rest, let yourself sleep. Don’t you worry about a thing and the trip will be over before you even know it.

Just the thought of it makes me smile.

You’re a pretty hot looking young college man, did you know that? I like that sharp, educated look in your eyes. I wonder how good you’ll look when I have you gazing up at me all peaceful and submissive and hypnotized. I wonder how good you’ll look in a deep sleep. I wonder how good you’ll look after I’ve turned you into my boy. I swear I always get so hard just thinking about it.

The occasion just calls for a fine cigar, something extra big, something extra rich. I select one from my box and reach for the cutter.

Yeah, you’re a real hot looking young buck. And you don’t know what I’m thinking; you can’t read my mind. But you know what, son? Pretty soon I’ll be reading yours. Soon, you’ll be relaxing into a nice deep trance in that nice comfortable seat of yours, and you’ll be slip sliding into my power. Yes, you’re going to let me play in your mind; you’re going to let me control your mind, and you’re like being under my control, boy.


I light a flame and I fire up my stick. The taste is right and my smoke circles the cab sensuously. I always love the feel and smell of a good cigar.

To tell the truth, he isn’t really such a bad guy at all. He’s real smart but not a smart-aleck. He has a sharp wit, and makes good conversation; in fact he makes a lot of conversation. College Stud does like to talk. But he also takes an interest in my rig and I always like it when my rider takes an interest in my rig.

Yeah, he’s a pretty good kid.

And he’s heading off to see some friends for the weekend.

I wonder if my smoky cigar bothers my new friend. I hope not, but this is my truck, and when I’m driving, I always enjoy puffing on a great, fat trucker cigar. I think to myself: does it bother you, boy? No, apparently not. In fact, by the way you’re watching me, and the way you’re watching my smoke curl, I’d guess you’re kind of turned on by it, aren’t you boy.

I ask him if he minds and he says no. He likes it; he even says that he’s tried a couple cigars himself, occasionally, when he’s been out fishing and hiking and climbing and stuff. But he’s never had one nearly so big as mine. I think he might want me to offer him one right then and there, and I would enjoy watching him puff on one of my big maduros, but not yet. Maybe later.

Oh yeah, boy, I got plans for you.

I chuckle privately and place my cigar comfortably back between my teeth. This is gonna be good.

But that was a few miles back and now we’re out on the open road. It’s flat. The horizon is way ahead. Yes, it’s a fine day; a hot, sunny, dusty kind of day; my kind of day. And the road is so straight and monotonous and it just keeps coming at you at that slow, steady pace; never changing, never veering.

Ever let yourself be hypnotized by the road, boy? Ever wanted to be hypnotized? But he doesn’t hear me.

No, he has no idea what’s coming.

I pause to enjoy my cigar. It’s long and heavy and warm, and the thick smoke almost stings in my nostrils, and it’s surrounding my boy, enveloping him. Breathe it in; breathe it in nice and deep. It’s like a drug for you, isn’t it boy.

College Stud likes to brag a little and I let him. It’s always fun to get to know my unwitting captive before he falls asleep. And this one likes to talk. He talks about lots of things: about school, about his classes, about his friends, and about rock formations, in that order. He’s a pretty interesting guy actually; he’s well traveled, he’s done much. He’s got the brains to go with his good looks.

And so I puff on my cigar, and let the rich smoke swirl around us, and it spirals around him, and I let him talk. It will soon be my turn to do all the talking and his turn to do all the listening.

I pause to look at him.

You’ve got a nice face, boy. I like the little beard. I bet you’ll look even better in a hood, a tight, black leather slave hood that shows only your mouth and your eyes, and your eyes will be oh, so vacant. I think I’ll keep you vacant and in that hood for a long time. He just keeps ramblin’ on telling me all about sedimentary and volcanic rock formations, but all I can think of is him in that hood.

But now he’s not talking so much anymore, and I can see that he’s already starting to stare out the front of the cab. He’s just staring at the horizon, staring at the road and he’s talking slower now. Slower still.

And now he’s quiet. Yeah, that’s it, relax and let it in.

His eyes are already taking on that expression; they’re starting to flutter. The road will do that to you, college boy. You are starting to feel sleepy.

The road will hypnotize you and this stretch can be awfully powerful. It just goes on and on and on, and it creeps into your skin, and it won’t let you go. It stalks you, it seduces you, and it will take you. Me? I have the rig to keep me busy, and my cigar to occupy myself. And I always take a little something – a little white tablet – to help me stay alert when I’m on the wide open highway like this.

But you? No, you have no such protection, no protection at all. Sitting in your great big seat, strapped in so safely, trapped facing forward so you cannot look away from the road, you’re starting to look small and vulnerable. You are already falling under its spell.

The bright sun, the afternoon heat, the numbing vibration of the engine, it all makes you so very drowsy, doesn’t it. Why, it’s hard to keep your eyes open at all. And I know some words that will help you to relax a little more. No, you have nothing to protect yourself from us now, do you son.

You see, the road and I, we’re a team; we work together and you are at our mercy, so you may as well surrender now without a fight; it’s going to be like singing a lullaby to a baby. But don’t you worry, everything will be all right. I’m going to take care of you once you’re asleep.

So just relax and go to sleep.

I smile at the thought. I put my hefty cigar back between my teeth and savor this moment: my hot looking, boastful, over educated college stud is starting to go under.

I take a second to enjoy my cigar. Its taste is so good, and the smoke is so thick, it almost fills the cab. I blow some sweet smoke at my boy and watch him take it in unaware. The incense is so very intoxicating, isn’t it boy. And I begin to speak into him, oh so carefully. And I select just the right tone with skilled practice:

Watch the horizon, I tell him. That’s right, just watch the horizon. See how flat it is; so flat, so empty, so relaxing. See where the road meets the sky? Just watch it and it almost pulls you in, doesn’t it. See how it makes you relax? Doesn’t it make you feel good? Don’t look away from it, don’t fight it, let it in. If feels so good to gaze at the horizon, doesn’t it.

His head is bobbing from side to side, but he lets his eyes rest on the horizon.

Yes, he replies.

Why, the boy is nodding off already. His eyes are fluttering, blinking shut. Then he shakes himself; he’s trying to stay awake. And he’s trying so hard, too. He just looks so cute there, struggling to stay awake like that, but the road and I, we’re both so smooth in our seduction, and I continue to talk to him in my most gentle voice, and I watch his eyes gradually glaze over.

Your eyes are getting heavy, so very heavy; you can hardly keep your eyes open.

His pupils become glassy, and they slowly rise up to the top, and the lids slide down and then, finally, his head falls softly back against the headrest.

That’s right, it’s so nice to close your eyes and rest, isn’t it. Yes.

Maybe you’d like to go to sleep for a little while. Yes.

And the steady rev of the engine is massaging your body, helping you to relax. The vibration is helping you to relax. Just relax and let yourself drift. Your legs are becoming so heavy; your arms are becoming so heavy. Your whole body is becoming so heavy.

Yes, he agrees again. It’s become so easy for him to agree with what I say.

I flourish my cigar, contemplate it a second, glance at my subject, and pause long enough to enjoy this magical moment.

Let’s pretend that you’re still focusing on the road, ok? You like to pretend, don’t you? Even though your eyes are shut, you can see the road. It hasn’t let you go. It’s still there making you relax more. It’s still making you sink deeper. It feels so good, don’t you think? Just rest yourself, relax, and watch the road. He mumbles something.

College boy is going under nice and easy. Let yourself relax and sleep son. Let yourself drift.

While the smoke circles him, I turn to watch: college boy’s head falls forward.

And the deeper you sleep, the easier it is to just listen to my voice.

His head sinks a little further and again my boy agrees: yes.

I savor my big victory smoke and again glance over at my prey. He’s slumped over heavily in his seat, held up only by the belt. College boy’s body is now in a totally relaxed state. His limbs are limp and motionless, he’s breathing so softly and slowly, and he looks so peaceful in his deep slumber. Yet his mind is open to me; his subconscious is obediently conjuring up the images I’m planting in him, and he’s still agreeing with all my suggestions.

Real soon, I’ll have my boy all naked.

My cock is becoming so hard with this conquest. I puff on my great cigar with satisfaction, and let the smoke surround my boy, and I continue: It’s so easy to agree with everything I say to you. It feels so good to do everything I tell you. You will believe everything I tell you. You trust me, don’t you boy?”

Yes sir, he volunteers.

And so it is that way out on the open road, far from any help or distractions, he surrenders to me totally. I spend some time wandering through his open mind, questioning him, conditioning him, and I enjoy altering him until he’s ready, and then, when I command him, he opens his eyes and smiles at me blissfully. His eyes are so empty. He doesn’t say a word.

College Stud is not home any more.

It’s awfully warm out, don’t you think? This cab is so hot. Why don’t you take off your shirt? I always like to start with the most simple, most obvious command. Maybe you would like to take off all your clothes. It would be so much more comfortable.

He unbuttons and removes his shirt for me, then his shoes, socks, and then his jeans. The kid is wearing tight briefs and strips them off for me too. It’s a large cab, there’s plenty of room; all his clothes fall loosely on the floor.

His chest is covered with the lightest, softest fur, and he looks just fine naked.

Son, you like being hypnotized, I can tell. I can see that hypnosis is making your cock nice and hard. Yeah, let yourself get nice and hard. Wouldn’t you like to play with your cock? Why don’t you just stroke it off for me? Yes, here, right now. We’re old friends, we trust each other; it’s ok to masturbate in front of me. We’re out here on the road all alone; no one will see. You feel like masturbating right now, so why don’t you? You just let your eyes rest on the horizon, yeah, like that, and stroke yourself and let me talk to you a little longer.

He’s so sweet, my little buddy, he’s totally content and naked next to me in my rig, and he’s happily moving his hand up and down his hard shaft. It makes me ever harder just to watch, and I’m really enjoying watching his happiness, but I use the moment to reach even deeper into his mind.

You like being my boy, don’t you son. You would like to remain with me and be my boy for ever, wouldn’t you son. He says yes sir with a smile.

He’s stroking faster now and he’s agreeing to everything I suggest. I like this. I know that hypnotic commands given while my subject is aroused will plant deep in the subconscious forever. He will be affected by this long after I’ve woken him up.

See, this is why I like being a trucker: I have this hot college stud sitting naked on the seat next to me, as innocent as a child and eagerly jerking himself off, not even aware that I’m brainwashing him, not caring that I am watching his cock bounce around just for my amusement. And I enjoy puffing on my great big fat trucker cigar while I put him ever deeper under my control.

Oh yeah, you’re going to be a good boy for me, son.

And when he cums, he shoots his juice all over himself, and some of it lands on the dash. I don’t mind; I merely reach over and wipe it off, and then wipe it on my jeans.

After that, I let him sit and stare out the front a little longer, and he’s ready for more. I open my jeans and pull out my cock; it’s been waiting – not so patiently – this the entire trip; and I tell my boy to go down and suck, and he smiles pleasantly, and quietly lays down across the cab and puts his head below my wheel and he pulls my cock in with his tongue and proceeds to suck.

He’s good too; damn good; in fact, he’s a little too good.

Boy, you like to suck down cock, don’t you. I begin to pet the back of his neck as his head bobs up and down on me noisily. You sure know what to do. Mine is not the first cock you’ve tasted, is it. He continues to suck me to pleasure. How many cocks have you sucked boy? He mumbles. He grunts. He snorts. He licks the head and goes back down again. Oh god, that feels so good. When are you planning to tell all your friends that you like cock, boy?

He’s too focused on his work to respond.

His bare, bubble-hot butt is slow-dancing on the seat next to mine, within easy reach, and beckoning my grip. I squeeze the one and it squirms under my touch, and then I squeeze the other. Then I knock a little of my cigar ash in my hand, let it cool, and rub it into his rump, and up his back. I wait for more ash and then add it to the first. He is sure becoming dirty, my dirty little boy. His soft bare skin is becoming covered in my gray ash. And his bare feet are raised up dangling in the air, almost hanging out the window in the breeze while he continues to suck and lick.

And I puff on my great, heavy cigar, feel the power of the engine, watch my ash covered, hypnotized boy lying across my seat, and feel his warm, wet lips around my ever-hard shaft.

And I take it all in and sigh: Yeah, life really can be this good.

Where’s a cop when you want one? Oh to imagine the look on some officer’s face when my rig passes him by and he sees my mindfucked boy’s bare feet dangling out the window. You know, sometimes you just want to be seen.

But I’m ready now. Ok, son, you can finish me up now. You know what to do. He speeds up with skill and pulls faster and harder and in seconds I shoot. I shoot into his mouth and throat. I shoot all over his face. He doesn’t startle; he merely smiles, then rises up slowly and proceeds to wipe and lick both of us clean. Good boy. You’re a real good boy.

Damn, talk about luck; I hit rich pay dirt with this one.

But that was many miles ago. And we still had a couple hours ahead, so I let him enjoy the trip. He spent it naked by my side, and I finally offered him one of my finest, a long, dark maduro and he lit it up easily enough. He looked so good, too, with that big ring gage between his lips, his smoke curling around him, and he appeared totally content as he stared vacantly at nothing at all.

Yes, my boy was so truly happy, I didn’t want to interrupt him.

I guess I’ll just have to save the hood and collar until next time.

And though I left him in his bemused trance for most of the rest of the ride, he was good company; though now he was a lot more quiet and I did almost all the talking. He just puffed on his cigar, stroked himself absently, and gazed blankly at the ever approaching horizon as if he’d never take his eyes off of it.

You know, son, I won’t be able let you remember this trip. I’m going to have to make you forget everything before I let you go. My boy looks at me and gets this real sad look on his face. He gives me the cutest pouting expression I’ve ever seen. So I tell him not to worry. It will be ok, I assure him. It will be our private little secret. You like keeping secrets, don’t you boy? And he smiles at me and nods his head. Yes, my sweet boy likes to keep secrets.

He won’t remember a thing.

And road just passes us by, and finally it is time to start planning ahead.

Go ahead, son, you can start masturbating again, can’t you son. Your cock is ready; it needs it, doesn’t it. One more time for me. Go ahead. He grins at me appreciatively and takes his shaft in his hand and starts to pound.

Pretty soon I’m going to have to let him clean himself off and command him to put his clothes back on. And I’ll have to wipe his brain clean too. Then he’s going to fall into a deep, natural sleep, and he’ll rest his face against my arm while he naps the last hour away. And when he wakes up he’ll discover that we’ve arrived at his destination.

Come on boy, show me how much you like beat off. Faster now. You’re almost ready to shoot. You want to shoot but you can’t until I tell you to. He is going faster and he is staring straight at me and his expression is wild with delight.

And when he finally wakes up for real, he’ll yawn. He’ll stretch. The boastful College Stud will be back, but he won’t have much memory of the trip, and he won’t even notice that he’s started addressing me as Sir.

That’s it, son, faster, harder. Beat your cock for me boy but you can’t shoot until I let you. Then you will shoot the second I tell you to and it will be the best orgasm you’ve ever had. Faster, boy. His eyes have become wide; he’s going nuts. He needs to shoot right now.

And I’ll pull my rig over and stop. And College Stud will thank me politely for the ride, and he’ll grab his cap, pick up his bag of books, and climb down from the cab and close the door. He’ll smile a friendly smile, wave at me, and then he’ll just walk away.

My boy’s whole body is jerking up and down now. His cock is a hard cherry red. Oh yeah, he’s going to explode when I release him.

And in a couple days when he needs a ride back to school, he’ll conveniently find me at the truck stop waiting. He’ll say “Hey, what a coincidence!” and he’ll ask for a return ride. That’s all right; I’ve got lots of plans for my little buddy, long term plans.

Ok, son, now shoot. Shoot for me now boy! Now! Good boy. He calls out; he spasms. His juice lands all over him and me and the cab as he settles back into the seat. Then with a contented smile, he slumps over into my arm, deep asleep. Very well done, son. But it looks like I need to clean off the dash again.

It’s a fine day; a hot, sunny, dusty kind of day; my kind of day. I got my rig, a good cigar, and my new hypnotized boy, naked and fast asleep under my arm. And I’ve still got plenty of miles yet to go.

Yeah, I like being a trucker.